Becoming Rogue
by Inthefire
Summary: A series of one-shots following George from a young age on his quest to become the Rogue.  Written for August 2010's 31 days.
1. Aftermath

_The prompt for this was: healed by wind and sun. Summary: George's first knife fight ends in a slightly sticky situation._

George Cooper stared at his arm as he watched blood drip from a cut into a puddle, turning the mud maroon. He was filled with awe, having just won his first knife fight. Some of the older thieves clapped him on the back, congratulating him. He glowed with pleasure, feeling unstoppable. But as his arm began to sear with pain, fear flooded his body.

He may have been only eight, but he had seen enough of the Lower City fights to understand that disease, once a thief had been wounded, could take even those that had killed their opponents. He needed to see a healer immediately, that was clear, but he had no money to do so. His mother would be able to cleanse the wound, but she would surely punish him, and very harshly.

Sighing, he turned for home. George knew that he'd regret going to his mother later, but he had no choice. George had dreams of becoming the Rogue, and he could hardly be king of thieves if he was dead. He trudged through the streets, wincing as the pain in his arm sharpened like the knife that had sliced it. After what had seemed like an eternity, he reached his front door.

"Ma?" he asked, peering inside.

"George?" hsi mother dried her hands on a dirty rag and came to greet her son. Noticing his bloody arm, her expression darkened. "Been fighting, my son?"

George knew it was helpless to lie to his mother, and that doing so would only worsen the situation. "We was just practicin'" he mumbled.

"Talk properly!" she commanded as she cleaned his arm. George winced as her creams stung, suspecting that she was intentionally using the cheaper, more painful medicines. "I refuse to have my son sound like a common thief, and I certainly do not want him training to be one!" She wrapped a bandage around his arm and set the medicines on their shelves.

"Now come here, George Cooper. I believe you have a lesson to learn."


	2. Watching For Now

_The prompt for this was: over the world and under it._

The Lower City was a fascinating place, if you managed to look past the dirt, crime and sensation of despair. George did not see any of what his mother abhorred, but simply found himself in a world of possibility. George didn't quite understand why his mother didn't feel the same excitement as he did when they saw people sneaking through the dark alleys. Eleni Cooper longed to keep her son away from these terribly tempting strangers, but her son's determination thwarted her hopes for respectability. Although to George, thievery was not something to fear, but a culture to explore

When George was old enough to find his way around the Lower City on his own, he would set off in search of adventure. While other children were playing with their toys, George was following thieves about, soaking up all the lifestyle of these thieves. But at the end of each day, he was forced to return to the care of his mother and her grumbles of "You must be a mud magnet" and "Why can't you stay here like all the nice children?".

His travels through the dingy streets meant suffering through a bath every day, but George was happy to oblige. He would do anything to walk amongst the world of the thieves. But eventually, he knew, he would do more than watch them. He would lead them.


	3. Free

_Prompt: (03) walk in empty places_

It was late, and George was lost. He would have sworn earlier that day that every street was imprinted in his mind, but now he found himself wandering through alleyways that he failed to recognize. He noticed that his shadow was growing longer and realized that nightfall was coming, and quickly.

George swore with such vividness that his mother would have suffered a heart attack had she heard- foul language was only one aspect that he had picked up from thieves. George began to hurry, desperate to find his way home before dark. Not only would his mother be furious and his bottom sore if he did not return immediately, but George felt an eerie presence settling in that frightened him as the liquor began to flow profusely in the bars.

George did not get very far before the darkness came for him. As the sun slipped away, rows of shutters snapped shut, leaving him feeling very alone. He shivered. The Lower City was his realm during the day, but he had never been trapped in its clutches during night before. George's brisk walk turned to a jog, and then to a run.

Had it been daylight, George would have recognized the streets he passed through, but now he solely processed the ominous trickles of water into puddles and the slams of doors. He ran wildly, feet pounding, lungs gasping. He tried to get a hold of himself, repeating _this is my city, I know my city_ in his mind, but to no avail. He continued to run wildly through the empty streets, running from nothing, but from everything.

As the adrenaline surged, his vision began to clear and he began to notice the landmarks of his city- the grand fountain, the pastry shops, the circus tent- and he found his way home. These surroundings calmed him and he began think clearly; this _was _his city. He didn't quite know his city in the dark, but he would in due time. Arriving at his home, George decided to slip through the back window, or what had previously been a window but was now a hole in the wall.

He fell into his bed, falling promptly asleep. When Eleni Cooper came into his room twenty minutes later, she was relieved to find the son that she had thought was missing. Perplexed, she decided that she must have missed him coming in.

In his sleep, George Cooper smiled, dreaming of narrow escapes to his kingdom and empty alleyways.

He was home free.


	4. Endings

_Prompt: one day here and the next day gone (04)_

A cold winter day, George came upon a group of thieves huddled together. They could easily have been simply conserving warmth- it was, after all, the coldest day of the year yet and George himself, who was wearing what must have been his entire wardrobe, was freezing. But suspecting something more and very curious, he came closer, and heard wisps of a conversation.

"You hear what happened?"

"I heard the Rogue killed 'im himself."

"Why?"

"Dunno…made the king angry?"

"I heard he slipp'd off a bridge and drowned. Couldn't swim a foot, that 'un."

"But it's all ice now!"

"Exactly. He was trapped under." A few chuckles rose at this declaration, but were quickly silenced by the entrance of a large man.

"He slipp'd, but 'twasn't off a bridge." The deepness of the man's voice matched his size. "Ice was on the ground. Didn't see it. Fell 'nd lost a fight." The crowd was silenced.

"But he was the best," a voice ventured.

The man shrugged. "He was yesterday. Not anymore."

As the crowd dissipated, searching for victims too bundled up to notice the loss of their purse, George processed what he had heard. Death was rarely mentioned amongst the thieves, from what he had heard. This man's death must have been remarkable, for there to have been such a fuss.

George wanted to-was going to, he reminded himself- be remarkable and talked about, but in a very different way.


	5. Happiness Comes with Difficulty

_Prompt: destiny calls and I go (05)_

"Ma, did you get any customers yesterday? George asked, his eyes anxious.

Eleni shook her head, her eyes glued to the carrot that she was slicing. There were incredibly dark circles beneath her eyes, a testament to the late hours she had kept last night. Taking in George's fallen face, she pulled him close and murmered, "I know you're always hungry. I'm sorry, George. We'll fix this soon."

"I'm not hungry, Ma," he tried to reassure her, but Eleni was not fooled.

"I'll go wait for customers," she told George and placed the carrot in front of him. "Go have fun and I'll see you later."

After eating half the carrot and saving the rest for his mother, George scrambled out of the house and into the city. He needed to do something, that was plain, but what could a boy of nine do?

Wandering throughout the city, George began to piece together a plan. He had begun to scrutinize the thieves, why didn't he simply become one? He could steal food, money, things that could help him and his mother.

George slowly wound through alleyways, looking for eligible places to thieve from. The young men were too strong, the children would scream, and the ladies drew too much attention. Few shops were left unattended, and those that were held nothing of importance. Finally George came upon a bakery that looked promising. He could see no one inside as he peered through the doorway and decided to slink into the shop.

The room was empty, although he could hear clangs emanating from the small kitchen. Quickly, before anyone could notice his arrival, he reached behind the counter and drew out two loaves of bread. Scampering away, he took one last look from the doorway to be sure that no one had seen him.

George began to run, taking special care to watch where he stepped. He was afraid of dropping the food or having someone thieve the bread from him. He inhaled deeply and savored the scents that wafted from the bread. Flour, yeast, even the slight smell of charred wood; it was heaven. The bread was still warm against his chest and he drew his arms around the loaf, protecting it as if it was a baby. He sprinted all the way home like this, with jolts of happiness flooding him.

His Ma was not going to be happy with his methods, but he hoped that she would soon accept it. Thieving was in the nature of the city, and it was in his destiny.

_Note: I'm falling behind..._


	6. Chasing

_Prompt: that we should voyage far_

It was around noon when they came for him. There was six, and all were much more heavily built that George was. When they approached, George shrunk slightly and turned his back, but his hand went straight to his knife. He knew it would be silly to enter into a fight so outnumbered, but the cold blade and its feeling of strength gave him confidence.

"Hey, you!" one called out. George turned to face the boy, his eyes spending extra time on the thick stick that he held. George slid his own knife out, ensuring that it was seen by all.

They laughed, a deep throaty sound. "We heard 'bout ye," another joined in, "Ye's the one that's been tryin' to hang 'round them big ones."

"Like ye'd ever belong with them," a third added. This fellow had a goofy smile across his face and was clearly enjoying the entertainment. "How old are ye? Seven? We's the ones that're gonna be in charge next, not ye, scrawny."

"Why don't we teach 'im a lesson, Silias?" The other boys jeered, encouraging the leader.

"Ye're not suppos'd to tip 'im off, remem'r? It's more fun when they's don't know what's comm'in." Silias cocked his head and examined George. "Not that it won't be any fun yet. Les, ye grab 'is arms. I'll do the rest."

George looked at the two boys, indecision flooding his mind. He detested even the thought of running like a scared child, but he understood when he was outmatched. As the boy Les came forward, a foolish grin across his face, George decided to put his pride away and flee. He spun around and began to sprint down the nearest alleyway. Laughter erupted from the boys. "We have a chase, eh?" one of them said.

The boys looked at their leader, waiting for permission to hunt the prey. "We should make sure that our littl' friend doesn' get lost in the city," he taunted, his voice loud enough that it echoed down the alleyway and into George's ears. The jeer was followed by snickers and then the pounding of footsteps.

George did not stop to look back at his pursuers, yet he ran faster. He sprinted through the maze that was the Lower City, past everything that he regarded as home. After nearly losing himself in the dark before, he had mapped the entire city in his mind. He ran from the boys for some time, leading a path through crowds, across bridges and into dark alleyways. Their bodies, while tough from fighting, were clumsy when running and George was able to lose them quickly amongst the throes of people.

Smirking as he walked home, George knew that regardless of what they had said, he belonged in the Lower City.


	7. Narrow Escapes

_Prompt: no longer burdened by what's left behind._

He ran frantically, anxiety causing his chest to pound. _Breathe in, breathe out. You need to breathe to run. One step in front of the other. That's it. Don't fall, don't look behind you._

He should not have done it. He was stupid, he was naïve, and now he was dead. What had he been thinking? He had been thieving on impulse too much lately. So what that it was dark? They might not have seen his face, but they were still going to kill him. He, George Cooper, had taken something from the Rogue, the King of Thieves.

And now he would pay for it.

He could hear their screams, their calls of "Get the sarden scummer!" and "Ye disgraceful lump!". He could feel the pounds of their feet as they followed him. They were getting closer, and his life was ending sooner.

He said his prayers, his I'm-sorry-I-disobeyed-you-Mother. But George did not truly have any regrets; perhaps he wished that he had practiced running more often, but he had no qualms of turning to thieving. It was his heart, his mind, his destiny, and would be his death.

George tripped and went flying, and heard the ensuing jeers. He scrambled to his feet instantaneously, his vision sharpened from the adrenaline. He was running across a bridge now, it creaking under his weight. He thought he heard a crack, but then he was over it, and running into the alleyways.

A crash pierced the air and shook the ground. George heard screams, cries for help, but he kept running. He could not stop now.

The absence of feet behind him caused him to stop and look behind. There was no one. He was alone.

It was stupid, he knew, but George's curiosity caused him to turn back in order to look for his missing pursuers. He traced his steps back to the bridge, or what had been. There was nothing there now, except for floating debris and wet men climbing out. He turned to run, but instantaneously stopped.

No one had recognized him before. They didn't know who he was- if he stayed still, no one would ever suspect him.

He grinned, knowing that he should not let his ego get to his head, but still allowing himself this one pleasure. He was only eleven, after all, and had still managed to escape the most formidable force in all of Corus.

_It's only a matter of time,_ he thought smugly, _before _I _rule them all._


End file.
